Good title.  Bulletproof, indeed.  When the figurative morphs into the literal.

I’ve talked about it forever…I’ve written about it forever…I’ve feared it forever.

No, not inadvertently walking in on Joy Behar changing into her itsy-bitsy, teeny-weeny bikini.  Cellulite City.  Although that’s right up there on the list of things that simultaneously horrify and nauseate me.  

The last, best hope of the Democrats to take Trump out was through their lawfare, banana republic shit.  It was never gonna work.  

Quite predictably, the adults eventually sauntered into the room…be it the Supreme Court, various appellate courts, or maybe even a random non-corrupt judge that wasn’t a Democrat plant (see Florida documents case)…and summarily defecated on all these ginned-up, illegitimate cases like a homeless crack addict dropping a big steamy burrito right in front of a San Francisco Chipotle.  

Look, I’m no genius…as my better half seems to remind me every day.  Nor am I prescient.

But I’ve predicted forever…probably along with tens of millions of my closest friends…that every attempt by the Racist, Marxist Left to crow bar Trump out of the race would crash and burn so violently, it would make the Hindenburg look like a mere fender bender. Continue reading →